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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30092472">he loves me (not)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/adai_17/pseuds/adai_17'>adai_17</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Bitter ending, Break Up, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Reflection, Vague Storytelling, other characters in the background but they dont really matter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:48:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>996</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30092472</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/adai_17/pseuds/adai_17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Kiyoomi reflects on a relationship, searching for a petal of love that has long since drifted away.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>SakuAtsuAngstWeek</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>he loves me (not)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is one of my first times writing angst (I find it so DIFFICULT), but I am happy with how it turned out.</p><p>Also I have no idea how to tag this, so I will just say that there is a <em>very</em> brief/implied explicit scene (???). I really don't know, just be warned.</p><p>I hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A tall, sleek man with curly black hair stands alone in the park holding a single flower. He pulls a petal from its center and watches it float to the ground, spinning slightly in the breeze.</p><p>
  <em>He loves me.</em>
</p><p>Soft gazes meet in the locker room. Strong shoulders and blonde hair shield him from oncoming crowds without question. Well cared for fingers offer him hand sanitizer, and a genuine smile draws him in. He accepts all with gratitude.</p><p>A second petal falls.</p><p>
  <em>He loves me not.</em>
</p><p>Laughter sounds from across the room. Arms sling over shoulders and pull heads close together. He watches compliments tumble out of a loud mouth, flirting shamelessly with their newest teammate. He pours another drink and downs it fast. It leaves a distracting burn in his throat.</p><p>
  <em>He loves me.</em>
</p><p>Cheeks flush pink under the streetlight. Their stomachs are happy and full from dinner, hands still intertwined from the walk home. He waits, watching fluttery eyes gather enough courage to reach out. Bodies lean close. Soft lips touch. The warmth on his skin lingers long after they part. He falls asleep to a “good night” text, and wakes up to one that says “good morning.”</p><p>
  <em>He loves me not.</em>
</p><p>His eyes follow movement in the locker room while they change for practice. Bruises and scratches litter the expanse of a broad and muscled back. Teammates hoot and holler at the sight, but he turns away. He ignores the clench in his chest.</p><p>
  <em>He loves me.</em>
</p><p>A comfortable home welcomes him. He gets pulled into a squishy hug by someone half his height who tells him to, “call me Ma.” An identical face tests him throughout lunch, questioning his worth. Four men lounge on the couch after a watermelon dessert. A blonde head dozes off on his shoulder, and the brother purses his lips, giving him unspoken approval with a slight nod.</p><p>
  <em>He loves me not.</em>
</p><p>He lies on his side, awake in bed. It’s late. His back stays facing the door as it opens and closes quietly. A body crawls under the covers. Its breathing evens out, and it falls asleep quickly. He turns in bed to face it, but he is only met with its back. He reaches out to close the distance but decides against it. He turns again. They are back to back, and his sleep is restless.</p><p>
  <em>He loves me.</em>
</p><p>Hands explore skin with fervor. They find each other, and fingers intertwine. A honey smooth voice soothes his nerves. “Are ya sure? Are ya ready?” He nods twice. Eyes meet, glossy with emotion. Something foreign invades his body for the first time, slowly and carefully. They both gasp, and his hands squeeze the other’s tighter. It’s all in, all heavy breaths. His partner leans up to kiss him, and the kiss says, “I love you.” <em>He loves me,</em> he thinks. They get lost for the rest of the night.</p><p>
  <em>He loves me not.</em>
</p><p>A foot taps against the floor, its tempo clashing with the perpetual <em>tick, tock,</em> of the watch on his wrist. He waits at the kitchen table. The door finally opens, far too late in the night. “Where have you been?” He is answered with cold, guarded eyes.</p><p>
  <em>He loves me.</em>
</p><p>Calloused hands massage his wrists. Two bodies relax, back-to-chest in the tub.</p><p>
  <em>He loves me not.</em>
</p><p>A hand flinches away when he reaches to hold it.</p><p>
  <em>He loves me.</em>
</p><p>A quiet sunday morning. Warm sunshine washes over the bed. Arms squeeze tight around his torso, and a sleepy voice mumbles against his neck. “Just five more minutes.”</p><p>
  <em>He loves me not.</em>
</p><p>There are no more “good morning,” or “good night,” texts. There haven’t been for weeks.</p><p>
  <em>He loves me.</em>
</p><p>A banana and a cup of steaming, black coffee wait for him after his shower, accompanied with a sticky note covered in hearts.</p><p>
  <em>He loves me not.</em>
</p><p>Eyes flash with hurt, and words spit back in defense. A yelling match occurs. Neither team backs down; the desire to win travels far past the volleyball court. Faces red with anger and hot with tears catch their breath. A door slams and echoes in the cold apartment.</p><p>
  <em>He loves me.</em>
</p><p>He sits on the ground and laughs: unhibited, unfiltered, ugly, and free. Puppies crawl over his legs and lick at his face. Their warm bodies squirm in his lap for attention. He smiles at the blonde across the grass who is looking at him like there is nothing else in the world. “Thank you for bringing me here.”</p><p>
  <em>He loves me not.</em>
</p><p>A text from a brother lights up the dark bedroom. <em>He’s with me,</em> it reads, <em>what the hell did you do?</em> The phone is placed face down on the nightstand, and he curls into the comforter, shutting his eyes tight.</p><p>
  <em>He loves me.</em>
</p><p>He chuckles when a face buries itself in his chest and whines at the horror movie on the screen. He asks if he should turn it off. Honey brown eyes pop open. “No. I said I’d watch it with ya, so I’m gonna watch it with ya.” His heart swells and he places a delicate kiss on a tan forehead.</p><p>
  <em>He loves me not.</em>
</p><p>“Are you alright?” His cousin asks a tentative question. He hums in response, heavy eyebags pulling his face down. He waits for a text that never comes.</p><p>
  <em>He loves me.</em>
</p><p>Warm, steady fingers wipe tears from his cheeks. “Yer alright. Yer here with me, ‘n I’m here with you.” He believes the words and sobs into strong arms.</p><p>
  <em>He loves me...not.</em>
</p><p>The final petal falls slowly. Gravity pulls it down to face reality. A tear slips from his cheeks with no one to catch it, and it joins the mutilated flower at his feet.</p><p>A quiet wind rustles nearby trees and whisks away the flower in pieces. They scatter until they’re gone, reduced to nothing, waiting to decompose. They drift away. The broken flower cannot be mended.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading!</p><p>I wrote this pretty quickly, and it's been sitting in my drive for too long. I am indeed a sucker for bitter/bad endings. xoxo &lt;3</p><p>Also, the flower Omi used is an oxeye daisy.</p><p>Talk to me on twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/adai____"> @adai____</a> !</p></blockquote></div></div>
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